Throw me a Trombone!
by Nr36
Summary: Sequel to Turnabout Band Camp. Phoenix Wright has decided to help out the James Madison High School marching band again by doing something no lawyer has done before: going back to marching band, even if it means playing his filthy (and possibly moldy) trombone again.
1. Like the Scent of Fresh Lemons

August 4, 4:35 P.M. Wright and Co. Law Offices

Phoenix Wright sat impatiently at his desk, waiting for a message that might never arrive; the message from Bethany Andrews, the band director at James Madison High School. The message would signify a turning point in the future of the school's band. _Ugh, I wonder just how long it's going to take for the message to get here. I might as well take this time to get the facts straight._

There were certainly a lot of facts to get straight, and all of them revolved around one girl: Sybil Mackey. She was the ex-girlfriend of Reggie Simmons, the best trumpet player James Madison had seen in a decade; she was a bipolar, psychotic killer that wanted Reggie dead; she was the one who, with the help of her friend Olivia Mazak, killed Reggie and attempted an assassination of her school's principal, Gregory Watson. She was the one who framed her band director, Bethany Andrews, for murder.

Phoenix had bravely defended her from the blatantly false testimonies of a few students (and Prosecutor Helado, a Spanish-speaking prosecutor) and managed to secure a Not Guilty verdict. It wasn't until two other students- Jamie Patterson and Alli Brooks- were also falsely accused that the case was fully understood. It also led to a completely ridiculous turn of events where Maya momentarily (and illegally) became a lawyer, drunk teenagers were arrested, and he once again squashed a certain Spanish- speaking prosecutor like the needlessly spicy poblano he was.

But even when the culprits, Mackey and Mazak, were found, he felt that there was one more thing left to do. As well as help the band from a legal stance, he offered to do something he wouldn't regret: he would return to marching band. Even if it meant playing his filthy, possibly moldy trombone again. There was an obvious problem with this, however: he wasn't in high school anymore, and having a ten-year alumni on the field with a bunch of teens sent more than a few creepy vibes.

Just when Phoenix had decided that Ms. Andrews had made the logical choice of rejecting his offer, the office telephone rang. An enthusiastic Maya Fey sprung with great strength to answer it, despite Phoenix being poised to sprint to the phone.

"Hello. This is Wright and Co. Law Offices," she said. "How may I help you?

The voice on the other line said, "I would like to speak with Mr. Wright, please. It has to deal with some very important business."

Despite me standing _right_ next to her, Maya yelled, "Niiiiiiick! Someone's calling you!"

I rolled my eyes and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"M-Mr. Wright. This is Bethany Andrews."

Phoenix replied, "Huh, I was beginning to think you wouldn't call back. What is it?"

"Mr. Wright, I am calling you about a proposal you made previously."

"P-Proposal? You mean, the one with Jaci Summers about joining marching band again?"

Jaci Summers was Alli's friend- when Olivia Mazak tried to kill the principal, one of the bullets missed and hit Jaci instead. Jaci, in her hospitalized state, had the crazy idea that Phoenix should join the marching band, and he, in his unhospitalized state, somehow thought it would work. Jaci then handed over the request to Ms. Andrews. Not that it was even possible.

"I'm not sure it's possible. I mean, you are in your mid-20's." _Point, case, and eyewitness testimony to boot!_

"I know, it's completely ridiculous. But I still want to help in any way that I can. If that means picking my trombone up again, I'd be more than happy to do it. Though I can't say that being the only grown adult in the band would be comfortable for anyone."

"Mr. Wright, the main problem is that the state might not allow it to happen. Due to regulations you might be barred from participating in competitions."

"I know, I know. But how else can I really help you guys out? I mean, you've lost your best man."

She sighed. "If this is going to be a possibility at all, I'd like you to show me what you can do first. Bring your trombone with you to the first day of Provisionary Band Camp, which is tomorrow, and maybe we can work something out."

"Really?! Thank you. I'll be there."

He hung up the phone and laughed. He was going back to high school, the days of his youth- like the scent of fresh lemons, you see.


	2. Three, Two, One, Disperse!

August 5, 6:55 A.M. James Madison High School, Band Room

I was quite excited. Somehow, I has managed to find my trombone, which, after all of these years, was still in my possession. I first headed into Bethany's office to see if I would even be allowed to participate in marching band.

"Ms. Andrews! I see you've been waiting for me!"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have been!"

"I bet… so, I'd like to you what you think would be the best thing to do."

"You mean, whether you should join marching band or just go home?"

"Yeah."

"Mr. Wright, I have debated that for a long time. I debated with myself whether or not I was going to make the right decision. And here's what I've decided: I think you would make a great addition to our band. First, because our band has gone through a lot in the past few weeks. You helped get me a Not Guilty verdict, and find the true culprits behind Reggie's murder. Second, because I think you would be a great inspiration to our current members. You have a particular way of inspiring people to continue forward and not to give up in times of conflict. Take your trombone! Be proud! You're part of the Warhawk Marching Band!"

"Thanks for everything, Ms. Andrews. It's a pleasure to work with everyone."

"No problem."

I walked out of Bethany's office, with my trombone. As soon as I turned the corner, I entered a room with large, panelized mirrors at the rear which had recently been cleaned.

The chairs had been stacked and placed on racks, as had the stands. Only the band director's podium stood in the room still. There were groups of high school students standing next to each other while talking endlessly. I didn't pay much attention to them, despite my excitement.

I then heard a girl's voice call out from behind me.

"Mr. Wright!"

I turned around, and noticed Jaci Summers standing in the instrument storage room. Her straight, dirty blonde hair and bluish-grey eyes caught my attention.

"Mr. Wright, the rest of the section is in here."

I reminded her with a laugh, "You can always call me Phoenix. Or Nick. Or _Wright._ "

I made my way into the storage room, hoping that what was waiting for me was not a displeased group of mid-teenagers that were ready to start asking for my testimony. Surely a few of them knew who I was.

As soon as I made my entrance, the first thing I saw were eyes looking up at me. Surely the same sort of reaction in Japan when an American walks into a bullet train. All of them surely thought something like, "Yikes, who is this dude?"

The next thing that I saw was that the freshmen all got together in their own circle of talking, while leaving everyone else to chat with each other. Clearly they felt different from the rest of the section, even me.

About 10 seconds later, she said, "Could I have everyone's attention for a moment?"

Everybody looked at Jaci, including the hesitant freshmen, who were completely unsure if Jaci was leading the section, or was just an upperclassman that was trying to gather them up for hazing purposes.

"Hello, everyone! I am your section leader for this year! My name is Jaclyn Summers. Or as everyone knows me, Jaci. First, I'd like to get to know you'll better, especially if you are new. I know it's awkward right now, but later it'll all be fine! This year, we have 3 'returners'. They are Matt, Jadon, and Sam."

Two guys and a girl near me raised their hands and waved, as if they were too scared to respond by saying something yet they wanted to make it known that they existed.

"So now I'd like to get to know all you freshmen. Could you please raise your hand if you are a freshman, please?"

A total of 4 freshmen rose their hands into the air.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed with gusto. "Now, who wants to introduce themselves first?"

One of the guys, who had brown hair and was eagerly awaiting to be called on, raised his hand and answered, "Jaci, my name is Alec. As you can see, I'm a freshman. So I have absolutely no idea what we're going to be doing today, but I'm really feeling it!"

"Ha ha. Good jokes, as always. That's a plus when making your first impression."

"Jaci…", said another freshman, another guy, "I'm Curtis. And that's all there is to it."

The section leader sneered, "Curtis, I personally thank you for keeping it short. We only have limited time to chat before we have to start."

Next, another guy rose his hand. He wore a green shirt with an image of Link on it. His brown eyes made contact with Jaci's. He proudly announced, "The name is Harry. Jaci, I am ready to serve you for all that will arrive!"

Jaci yelled, "Way to go! And what about you?" she said to the last remaining freshman, a girl with red hair that looked hesitant to say anything.

"Uh, yeah?" she muttered. "I'm, I'm Karrigan. Karrigan Fermi. I'm, ya know… a little nervous about marching band and all. I really don't have anything else to say, really."

Jaci smiled even wider.

"It looks like everyone has introduced themselves! We can now move on with our day!"

At this point, no one except Jaci cared that I was there, so I made my presence known in a way that I used time and time again in my profession.

"Objection!"

I pointed my finger at Jaci and glared at her. I yelled, "Hold it right there! There's another person yet to introduce themselves, and the roster list proves it!"

Jaci laughed. Everyone else just stared at me.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Phoenix Wright."

Karrigan asked, "Phoenix… Wright? I think I've heard of the name before."

"You may have heard of me before because I'm known for my ability to turn my clients' cases around. You might be wondering why I'm here. The truth is that after that whole series of events around the late Mr. Simmons… I felt it was necessary to do something to help you out. So I decided… to return to marching band, to the days of ten years ago."

Jaci answered, "And that is why Mr. Wright is here, everyone. And with that I believe that everyone is here. And with that I feel that it's time we should get ready for the festivities."

"Festivities?"

She giggled and replied, "Oh, you know, getting to learn how to be called to attention and how to actually mark on a field, that sorta thing?"

I sighed, "Yep. I just hope I'm ready."

From there we all walked out of the instrument storage room and we then stood in the actual band room, and we all sort of massed around the band director's podium in a great sea of uncertainty, waiting for more direction. That was when a very energetic Ms. Andrews appeared and began to get everyone in order.

She yelled, "Good morning! It's such a pleasure to be here at Band Camp once again! And this time, we're actually going to complete the week!"

Everyone in the room screamed and cheered, including myself (who, despite my marching band spirit having been in dormancy for nearly 10 years, was suddenly re-animated.)

"And now, I would like to welcome someone new into the band room today. He was in marching band all through high school and even into college, and after that ended up becoming one of the greatest defense attorneys we could ever ask for! Mr. Phoenix Wright, welcome back!"

The whole room erupted into clapping and cheering, and I couldn't help but smile sheepishly and look towards Ms. Andrews. I couldn't believe that I had saved herself and two of her students from wrongful prosecution.

"Thank you, everybody," I said. "It's a pleasure being here. I can't actually believe that I'm here…"

Ms. Andrews replied, "I'm sure of it. I think that right now would be the perfect time to practice some marching techniques. After all, it's been weeks since we've last rehearsed."

Some of the students raised their arms in excitement and cheered, before getting up from their chairs and leaving for what lied ahead: the football field outside. There was a door near the back of the band room through which myself and everyone else who was there exited through. It led straight to the field.

The field itself was an artificial field, perfectly level. From back in the band room, it looked like perfection, and it truly was. But when you would get closer, you could see that the "grass" was really just strands of material sticking out of a layer of small, black pellets. But it was level and looked tidy.

It was then when the band members began to find their spots in a rectangular formation.

"What is this?" I asked Jaci.

She said, "This is Drill Block. This is the neutral formation which we use to check our drill and stuff, practice marching, you name it!"

"Well, uh, where do I stand?"

Jaci pulled out a piece of folded-up paper from a small nail bag that she was wearing around her waist. On one side, 8 clothespins were attached, all with different colors.

She answered, "Actually, you're right behind me! Make sure you're in line with everyone to the left or right of you when you're in the formation."

After getting myself in line, we began to wait until everyone else had found their spots in Drill Block.

A few more minutes passed, and then I heard Ms. Andrews clap her hands four times in rapid succession and say, "Band ten hut!"

Everyone besides me yelled back in response, "Attack!"

"All right! Let's start off with some stretches! Pull one arm across… then the other…"

Karrigan, who was standing behind me, sneered, "I think we're the only marching band in the state that stretches before they march."

I replied, "That's not too far off from the truth, really. I'm not sure of the purpose behind them, anyway."

After a series of quad pulls and calf stretches, Greg Hanson, one of the drum majors, called out a phrase that made the whole field erupt into cheers.

"It's time for some Wacky Jacks!"

I immediately recognized the phrase and remembered that we did these in years past. Essentially, a "Wacky Jack" is when one jumps up into the air on one foot with one arm extended, then repeats the process on the other leg. I had loved them in the past, and even though it had been 10 years since I had done some, my memory still possessed a recognition of them.

And so we began to do them, counting out loud as we did so.

"One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! One! Two! Three! Four! One! Two! Three! Four! One! Two! One! Two! One! One! One! One!"

On the last Wacky Jack, we raised our arms into the air and, much to our glee, attempt to wake Greater Los Angeles with the resulting noise.

"YAAAAAAAY!"

Ms. Andrews now said, "Let's get this marching goodness going! But first, I'm going to have to explain marching for those who aren't familiar with it. I know this is going to sound extremely morbid, but imagine as if your body was cut in half. This is sorta how it works while you're marching. Half of your body moves, and the other remains still while you play!"

 _I never knew marching band and mutilation had so much in common._

She continued, "Anyway, you have to take somewhat awkward steps while you march. These are called roll steps, because you have to roll from your heel to the balls of your feet. Imagine like you're trying to squeeze toothpaste out of a tube! I think that you would get a better idea if we were to do this in sectionals!"

And so Jaci gathered us into a small group, making sure that no other section had the potential issue of running into us.

"So let's do this! I'd like all of you to get on the 45 yard line. Try and make sure your heels are in line. We're first just going to march 8 steps forward."

I readied myself and prepared to be way off our intended close point, the 40 yard line.

"Mark time, mark… forward march!"

As I marched forward as best as an attorney could the remainder of the "returners" counted aloud together.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, hit, close!"

Jaci checked the positions of our feet. We all ended up in around the same spot, give or take a few inches forward or back.

She said, "That's pretty good. I think we should do that again just to ensure that we can, you know, march consistently."

So we repeated this process once more, and the result was the same.

"That looks good. I think we just need a bit of individual practice, and these few issues with distance will be fixed. Bring it in!"

All of the section members, minus the freshmen and me, placed their hands in the center of a circle they created.

I asked, "Uh, Jaci… is this some section tradition or something?"

"It is, haha! You just stick your hand into the center and I count down from 3, and when it reaches one, we all yell 'Disperse!"

 _Sounds fantastic._

"Three! Two! One! Disperse!"


	3. Freshmen, The Bringers of Hate

August 5, 9:10 A.M. James Madison High School, Band Room

We entered the band room again, having practiced marching outside for quite some time now. It was time for us to play the music, and get to know it well. I was actually pretty excited—I was actually going to be able to play my instrument for the first time in several years.

I grabbed my case from the instrument storage room, being careful not to drop the case as I removed it from the cubby it was stored in. As I went back into the room, I realized that there was one problem: I didn't know the seating arrangement for the section, let alone the entire band.

I consulted Jaci, one of the few people in the band that I could trust, for more insight.

"Jaci, where do I sit in the formation?"

"Well, Mr. Wright, you actually sit next to me."

"So, you mean, sorta like how we are in Drill Block?"

She nodded her head and smiled.

I found my seat fairly quickly, which in the center of the third arc of chairs. I also got myself a music stand, where a more serious problem confronted me. I didn't have my music. I knew from experience that reading off someone else's music is not just awkward, but embarrassing. I went to Ms. Andrews, hoping she had what I sought.

 _I can't believe I'm gonna say this. I'm at Band Camp and yet I don't even know what this year's show is. I mean, might as well get this over with now so I don't make a fool of myself later._

"Ms. Andrews, what's the theme for the show this year?"

She smiled and gave me a smirk. As if she was hinting it was something good.

"Well, Mr. Wright, perhaps I should have told you earlier. But this year, the James Madison High School Marching Band will be performing…"

 _Oh, dear. I never knew my former client was this clever. What's she got hidden inside of her mind?_

" _The Planets_!"

I asked, "Uh, what's that? Sounds like a sci-fi movie from the 50s."

Ms. Andrews clarified, " _The Planets_ was an orchestral suite written by Gustav Holst, a British composer in the early 20th century."

"Well, it seems we're doing a very… interesting show this year, to say the least."

She added, "And here's your music, Mr. Wright."

I grabbed the music pages, which all were filed in order from first to last movement. Without even looking at the notes on the pages, or even their titles, I returned to my seat and placed the music on the stand.

I only then decided to look at the boldface letters of the song's title. It read: **FROM THE PLANETS: Mars, The Bringer of War**. The next thing I noticed was the unusual fraction of 5/4 next to the bass clef. I discovered also that the first song was two pages long, so I placed them side-to-side on the stand.

I asked Jaci, "So this piece is in 5/4 time. What's that mean, anyway?"

She replied, "There are 5 counts per measure. In other words, you will end up marching out of step every other measure, which is rather confusing."

 _And I thought I would get off easy this year…_

"Band ten hut!", she yelled.

"Attack!", we shouted back.

"Relax, but listen. This'll be our first time playing this piece, so we're just gonna see if we can last through the whole thing. After we sight read it, we'll go back and run through parts we have trouble with. And remember, drum majors: this piece is in 5/4."

Bethany raised her hands up, holding a baton in her right hand.

"One. Two. One, two, three, four!"

The bari saxes and sousaphones began to play their endlessly repeating motif, and after a few times of hearing them play, I raised my trombone and prepared to play the first notes on it in 10 years.

 _It's only three notes. And they're slurred, too. This shouldn't be difficult, right?_

I buzzed into the mouthpiece and grasped my slide, moving it in the proper way between positions. The notes, surprisingly, came out perfectly. But one major problem that came to light was that I wasn't playing nearly loud enough to be heard by anyone, even myself.

After observing the rests on the page, and listening for a few measures, it was time for us to play again. Like earlier, I repeated the same three notes, but playing louder so I could actually be heard. I actually sounded pretty good, but in comparison with those sitting around me, my sound was poor.

More instruments came in, and as they did so, the epicness of the piece really got my attention. I was starting to get excited, even as I was playing the music. I especially felt the emotions kick in after all of the instruments rested for four measures just before the main motif.

For the remainder of the music, we continued to play as best we could, although our sound did cut out at improper times, such as when we were needed to back to higher instruments.

In general, I did fairly well by high school standards for the first sight reading of _Mars_. But I knew that there was much to be done, and by the look of those around me, I could tell the reaction to how we played it was mixed. Out of curiosity, I decided to listen to some of the small talk going on between them.

"So this is the opener this year? Sounds okay, but not amazing."

"This Holst stuff sucks rotten ass. _Mars_ sounds like a death march. I wish we were doing _Doctor Who_ again."

"That's it, I'm moving to West Eagleland."

I sighed, knowing that if we were going to get approval for the show to increase, the morale of the band would have to be raised. Significantly. But the morale at the present time had definitely seen better days.

"Jaci, have you listened to them? They don't like it…"

She replied calmly, "Mr. Wright, it's only natural. This stuff happens every year. Some bandies, especially freshmen, need time to adjust to the new year's stuff. Especially since we're doing classical music, not some pop culture thing. It'll get better, I promise."

I could only hope that was the case. As far as I was concerned, with the status quo, the Warhawk Marching Band was screwed.


	4. Like Choir Used to Say

August 5, 11:53 A.M. James Madison High School, Band Room

A day at Band Camp was almost over. I had learned a lot. In particular, how to march, play, and get along with those much younger than me all over again. However, most of the experienced members knew that the whole band wasn't quite on the same page.

Ms. Andrews said, "It's time for a Drum Major pep talk! Greg?"

Before Greg spoke, I glanced around me. The whole trombone section crowded around me, with Jaci and Karrigan being the closest near me. They both looked at Greg with curiosity, waiting for the all-important message to be delivered. After a brief silence, he started.

"I'd like to start off by saying that this first real day of Band Camp was an experience for all of us, both physically and emotionally. Losing one of the best band members we had was very hard for me to grasp. Reggie was such an amazing person; benevolent and caring, resourceful and outspoken.

Unfortunately, he was cut down by a megalomaniacal, psychotic shadow of a person who had nothing to lose. Sybil Mackey, in hindsight, is a terrible person. But we mustn't let this act of savage violence stop us. If her actions prevent us from doing what we love, then she has won.

Mr. Wright has inspired us to do what is very hard to do: carry on after something hard. He has allowed us to have a slight bit of closure about the whole thing. For now, our music and marching are rough, but I think that with time we'll be able to improve that. What's important for now is that we stay committed.

We've got a lot of the season ahead of us, and plenty of good times. I'm sure that this season's got a lot in store. We'll just have to see where it takes all of us. So go out there, strive to be the best you can be, and be here tomorrow, ready for some more band at 7 in the morning. Good luck to you all."

"Good luck, everyone," I mumbled softly, hoping the remark wouldn't be taken as a sarcastic prattle.

The band room cleared out quickly. Most of the section dispersed, heading out to the parking lot to wait for their parents or to go to their cars. Before long, the only other people left were Ms. Andrews, Jaci, and me. Ms. Andrews headed to her office, while Jaci and I stayed in the band room. I sighed and clasped my hands together, which got Jaci's attention fairly quickly.

"Mr. Wri— er, Phoenix… how does it feel to be back?"

"Well, Jaci, to tell you the truth…" I said, "I love it here. We've got a long road ahead of us, but we'll make it work in the end. We always do."

She turned her head and looked at me. Her hands ran through her well-combed, but slightly scruffy, dirty blonde hair before replying.

"I agree. But it just doesn't feel the same without Reggie here. He was an awesome person. A year ago, he was the person that gave me the inspiration to try out for section leader. I was determined to become the best section leader I could."

"So Reggie was a really influential person in your life," I said.

"He was. He was so determined to make a difference in people's lives. He wanted to see people learn to have confidence, both for the present and the future. It's just that I'm not sure what's going to happen now because he's not here anymore…"

Jaci sighed as she began to place her music back inside her band folder. Her hands were a little shaky, and she grasped the pages tightly.

I asked, "Jaci? Are you upset because Reggie isn't here anymore? Are you worried that new freshmen won't listen to you because they won't think you are committed?"

"Y-Yes. That's my main concern. That and the fact that Reggie was one of the best people I've known. He had a charm that nobody else had. I'm just worried that the band is on a downhill turn. And based on the reception of Mars, I don't think some of the freshmen particularly enjoy the show."

Jaci's head drooped and her eyes closed.

I sighed, "Jaci, I understand how you feel. Some of the closest people to me are not the same as they used to be. My friend, Larry Butz, was charged with a murder he didn't commit. My co-counsel, Maya Fey, was kidnapped and extorted as part of a scheme. Her sister and my mentor, Mia Fey, was murdered because a man didn't want the truth about his 'business' to get out."

Jaci gasped, "Oh my God! Y-You have gone through a lot… How have you persevered?"

"Jaci, I used my confidence to help push me forward. Even after tragedies, do what you love. And always seek the truth."

"Like Greg said, 'if terror makes you stop doing what you love, then the terrorists have won'?" she asked.

"Yes. Indeed. When I see you tomorrow, I expect to see you to be ready for some more awesomeness. Marching band is an awesome thing, as it should be. See you later!"

Jaci Summers' light blue eyes lit up as I gathered my belongings and walked out of the band room. Perhaps she felt touched by my presence and the advice I had given her. Whatever she was trying to indicate with that child-like look of amazement, I knew certain that the Jaci I would see tomorrow would not be the same Jaci I had met earlier.


End file.
